


Somewhere Safe

by triumphforks



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 19:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18198167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triumphforks/pseuds/triumphforks
Summary: Even though Hikaru has been accepted in to Inazuma Japan, his guilt still makes it difficult for him to comfortably sleep at night.





	Somewhere Safe

Sleep had never come to him easily, and his newfound clarity only brought with it more difficulties. Where before he was plagued by general restlessness, now his night troubles were so painfully specific: every wrong thing he’d done, pushing its way between sleep and his overthinking mind. Not just his choices, not just his actions, but the effects of them too; shouts of pain, echoing in his ears. Distorted expressions, in excruciating detail. Too much - tonight it was too much, and instead of fighting he gave up.  _ Beaten by my own mind,  _ he thought as he slipped quietly out of bed, in to his jacket, and out the door.  _ And not for the first time.  _ He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh at his own grim joke, or to feel even more down. At least that question gave him something to think about. Something that wasn’t all the suffering he’d caused. 

Some things had changed since he’d arrived in Japan. Others hadn’t. He was headed out to that spot by the lake: it was calming during the day, but even more so at night, with the water almost deathly still, and the stars mirrored in its surface. It was a place he could go to and feel at peace - as much as he could - and in control, whatever that meant. And since it was something he’d done before (too many times, in fact), he had set off without much thought to being caught, or facing consequences. It was late enough that there would be no one around to stop him, and the thrill of sneaking out had well and truly died. But as he passed the common room, he noticed something different. A light - soft, and from a source other than the room’s main lights - shining from somewhere inside. He paused, wavering by the door, unsure of what to do. The longer he lingered the more it seemed the light was inciting him in, its small presence beaconing in the dark, transforming dusky shadows from something traverseable to something much harder, and more sinister.

It was just too tempting. The light was calling. More than that, he found himself caught in some kind of curiosity; some need to know if there was someone else up late, like him, someone else who couldn’t sleep for the weight of their memories, not that he wanted anyone else to feel as rotten as he did, but just for the simple need to not feel so completely alone. 

After a moment’s more hesitation he made up his mind, changing course from the outer door in to the common room, where he saw a figure seated in one of the chairs. The light was right beside them, too bright, ruining his night eyes and hiding any distinguishing features until he got up close. And when he did, the person was too engrossed in their work to notice him - at least, until he called out.

“Nosaka?” The other boy seemed startled at first, but his expression softened in to a smile when he saw him. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, voice as soft as his smile, and he lightly patted the seat next to him, as if beaconing. 

“No…” he replied. “You too?” He moved to take the seat but felt so completely awkward, and he felt as though he’d suddenly forgotten how his limbs were supposed to work. His voice, too, was stilted - and he was starting to think his curiosity had gotten him in to a terrible situation. He didn’t know how to do this! He didn’t know how to socialise, how to be casual when it came to the people he had so very recently hurt. 

But he did sit. Awkwardly. There wasn’t quite enough room - Nosaka had notes and files there with him, and he found he had to bunch himself up in order to sit without disturbing any of it - or the other boy. 

“Not exactly,” Nosaka said absently, his attention back to the notes in his hands. “I don’t really notice the time.” Before he could say - or do - anything, Nosaka shuffled closer, coming up right against him, and not once taking his eyes from his notes. “What do you think of this?”, he asked, at the same time wrapping one arm around his shoulder and gently pulling him in to see. If he was awkward and unsure before, he was even moreso now - and caught in an impossible situation. He wanted so desperately to be able to answer. He could tell enough that the notes before him had to do with the team, and focus areas for training for their upcoming match, and he wanted to give the best answer he could. He wanted to be  _ useful,  _ after all, to be helpful to make up for all the times he… wasn’t. But he also couldn’t get his head thinking straight enough to concentrate. Instead it was preoccupied with the thought of how  _ close _ Nosaka was, how easily he’d dismissed the distance. How warm it was, to have contact with another person like this. 

“It looks good,” he said, internally chastising himself for not concentrating harder, and not being able to put forward a proper opinion. That was what he was there for, and he’d failed already! He looked at Nosaka, almost sheepish, wondering how the other boy would be judging him; but found Nosaka still with that same soft, smiling expression, with no hint of judgement at all. 

“Do you think so?” Nosaka shifted. The arm at his shoulder moved to wrap almost completely around him, and as a consequence he found himself pulled in even closer. Nosaka’s mind still seemed to be on his work, though, as the movement was only made to point out specific notes he had written, as he began to explain some of the more messily scribbled ones. 

Nosaka’s voice was soothing. At first its softness - and the warmth of closeness - was distracting, and he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing that was said. But gradually he found his wits began to make their way back to him. The soothing voice had something to it, a deliberate evenness that was calming, and helped him forget all the small tensions he’d set himself up with. 

He’d interjected, a few times, when the anxiety of being useful finally left him and he let himself become engrossed in all the data instead. But those interjections soon became less frequent, as a different anxiety - the one that manifested in tension, that was always lurking ready to remind him of all the terrible things he had to be reminded of - faded away. Not completely. Never completely. But enough that he felt he could sit unguarded, at least for a short while. And that was all the night needed. He barely noticed when his eyes began to grow heavy, or when the blinks to stave off stinging tiredness grew longer and longer, until it was easier to keep his eyes closed than to keep trying to focus them. At that point his senses were more preoccupied by the warmth, and the soothing voice, and the feeling of being safe enough that not even the terrors of the night could reach him. 


End file.
